The Fun of Voracity and Bloodshed
by StillDoll027
Summary: Imagine a world where the rebellion wasn't successful. It's time for the 82nd Hunger Games, and no-one - especially Emni and her boyfriend Dare - are safe. May turn into a breif songfic. Rated M  because I'm paranoid. Please read and review!
1. The Morning Before Emni POV

_Welcome to my new fanfiction. 'The Fun of Voracity and Bloodshed'. Just to let you know, a sister novel will be running alongside this story later in the story, but until then, please just review the story and leave me (constructive!) criticism!_

_**Disclaimer!**_

**SD: This chapter, I'll be using my favourite Hunger Games character, Peeta, to do the disclaimer!**

**P: Hello.**

**SD: Peeta, if you wouldn't mind.**

**P: StillDoll027 does not own Hunger Games, only the original characters she uses in this story.**

**SD: Yep! That's right. Sorry folks. I'll inform you if I ever do come to own the Hunger Games, though.**

**P: Why aren't I in this story?**

**SD: Oh, you will be. But later, ok? Don't want that pretty face of yours hurt, do we?**

**P: I want my Katniss.**

**SD: *facepalm***

The constant song of the swallows woke me long before morning, the ever-repeating medley filling my bare room. C-B-C-C-B-C-C-B-C-B they sung in chorus, unaware or uncaring of the time. I lay, wide awake, watching the flickering shadows on the wall, trying to make pictures that weren't really there. Anything to take my mind off what was happening today.

The reaping.

Even thinking about it made me nauseous. Ever since the rebellion had fallen through nine years ago, the Hunger Games had become much more brutal than before. Tributes cutting off their opponent's arms and legs, trying them to trees, rocks, the Cornucopia… basically anything solid and watching them starve. Torturing them, mentally and physically. I hate the Hunger Games. Not only for this barbaric bloodbath that occurs year after year. No, they also took my family away from me. My brother, Jordan, was a tribute eight years ago. We watched as another tribute, a career called Sora, became his ally, tied him to a tree and cut off his limbs one by one. She eventually went on to win, to my fury. My mother, heavily pregnant at the time, went into labour in accordance with Jordan's death. Along with Jordan's death, the stress of the birth exhausted her and she died mid labour. My father, tormented by the death of both his son and wife, cut my sister from my mother, but she died – unnamed – three days later, despite my best efforts to save her. With this, my father took to drinking, and began to loathe me. I didn't care. I hated life. But still I tried, working my share of the farm, making the house liveable - even cooking all my father's meals. I lost weight and sleep as my mental state began to diminish. Finally, when my father threw an empty bottle at me, I lost it. I ran out of the house, crying, and headed for a nearby meadow, along with our household supply of Sleep Syrup. My plan was simply to take all the syrup and drift into death surrounded by flowers. Only problem was:

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I jumped, spilling half a bottle. I looked up to see a boy – about my age – looking down on me with intense eyes.

"W-what did you say?"

"I said don't do it. Killing yourself can't be the only solution."

"You don't know me," I said, lowering my eyes, "You don't know my hardships."

"You think you have hardships?" The boy's voice was wooden. He sat next to me, and I shuffled away, uncomfortable, embarrassed and a little angry. "My family was killed in front of me. They were rebels, plotting the downfall of the Capital. This was before the rebellion – days before. I was spared because I was too young. I was only seven. I didn't know anything. But the rest of my family was executed in front of our whole district – District Six. And when that happened, I found myself completely alone in the world. No family would take in another mouth to feed. I found myself rummaging through bins in order to survive."

"That's… horrible." I whispered, keeping my eyes on the ground. I sensed, rather than saw, the boy shrug.

"The pasts the past. Nothing you can do will change it

"Now, tell me your story."

I looked at him in fear, "My story?"

"Yes – yours story. I told you mine." He shrugged again. "It's only fair."

"Oh."

There was silence for a few moments where I just pulled out clumps of grass, before I blurted out "My brother was in the Games."

"Oh." The boy said quietly, looking to the ground, "He was Jordan, then?"

I nodded , tears blurring my vision. "You saw him, then?"

"I did. He died a hero's death."

"Huh?" I looked to him. His eyes – chocolate brown, I noticed – locked onto mine.

"I mean, he didn't beg to live or cry or anything. He just kept talking about how much he loved you and your family. That's heroic in my opinion."

"He was heroic. He was more than that." I gave a small smile. "He was the family's golden child – he could de no wrong, loved by all."

"Including you?"

"Especially me. I adored him. Worshiped him. You know?" I asked, looking desperately at this boy I didn't know. He nodded.

"I understand. So how did they take it? You family I mean."

"That's just it – they didn't. Haven't. My mother died later that day – in childbirth. That child died three days later." I said sadly.

"So it's just you and your father?"

"Yes. But… he's not coping well – if you can call it coping. He's taken to drinking, and…"

"Has he hurt you?"

"What? Why do you ask?" I asked, looking at him in confusion. His eyes flickered to the side of my head and back to me. Cautious, I raised my hand to touch it. When I brought it away, it was red.

Blood.

Oh god. I couldn't deal with blood. Not since Jordan. It made me faint everytime I saw it.

"Oh god." I whimpered.

"Did he hurt you?" The boy insisted, grabbing my shoulders. My head reeled backwards.

"He-he threw a bottle at me. That's why I left. I was sick of pretending to care."

"Here, let me look." He gently took me face between his hands and examined the side from whence the blood had come. "Yep, that's a deep cut. It'll need stitches. Come on." He got to his feet, "I'll take you to my mother."

"Huh?" I got to my feet, "Didn't you say-"

"I did. She's my adoptive mother."

"But-"

"Look, we can discuss this another time. You're losing blood. Come on." And he took my hand and led me away. Sometime later, I heard a concerned voice calling – "Dare? Dare! Where were – oh god. Is that..? Oh god. Dare, you bring her right inside! I'll go prep…"

I looked sideways at him, "Your name's Dare?" I asked meekly, ashamed I hadn't thought to ask.

"Yep." He said with a grin, looking straight at me, "And your Emni, right?"

"No." I said, stopping short, "I'm Emily. Only my friends and brother call me Emni."

The boy – Dare – stopped, looking back at me, confused, "I thought we were friends?" He asked, confused as well. I thought this over, before saying shyly "Well, I guess… that's fine then."

"Ok. Let's do this properly, then." Dare stepped forward, extending his hand. "I'm Dare. And you are?"

"Emni." I said, smiling pleasantly, "Nice to meet you."

Dare. He was the reason I kept going. He was the reason I was alive. After that day, we'd spent increasingly more time together, to the point where I knew more about him then anyone else, and him to me. We were inseparable. Our – or should I say, his, for I had none – friends suspected we were more than best friends long before we were. The truth is, he was like a brother to me. Everything about him reminded me of Jordan. It was like I only lived when I was with him. It wasn't until he'd kissed me that I realised my true feelings – that I loved him. I couldn't believe it's taken me that long to realise. But neither of us could say that word – love. Such is life.

The swellow's song changed key, and I blinked back into reality to see the sky tinged pink. Dawn. I sat up, knotting my hair in my hands. If I couldn't enjoy the sanctuary of sleep, I could at least do something of use. I got to my feet, the stone floor cold, and padded out into the living area. As I passed my father's room, I heard him yell "Bloody girl!"

"Morning Dad." I said tiredly, already aware of what was to follow.

"Waking me up at this hour of the day! Get out of my house!"

"Mm. I'll just be a minute and then I'll make your breakfast."

"You'll probably poison it. Heh. But you know if you try, I'll kill you. Slit your throat open."

"Sure Dad. You want eggs?"

"Blah! I hope you get drawn."

I froze, not believing what I'd heard.

"That's right… I know what day it is. The day of the reaping. I must say, I'd enjoy watching you be tortured to your death."

I walked to my father's doorway, trying to hold back tears. "That's an awful thing to say," I whispered, not even attempting to hide the hurt in my voice. My father just laughed.

"The truth hurts, love." I saw a shape move, and I instinctively ducked to the right. A bottle sailed through where my head had been not two seconds before, and I flinched away from the sound of shattering glass, before sighing and walking back down the hallway, my father swearing at my back. Rubbing my eyes, I reached out and opened a nearby door. Closing it behind me, I let out a breath I'd unawarely been holding. It was here I felt most at home. Smiling, I walked forward, knelled down, and whispered quietly: "Hi Mum."

Mum looked gorgeous in her photo. Radiant red hair rippled down to her waist, where two children – Jordan and I – clung. Mum was smiling down on us, while Jordan and I just looked at Father, who was taking the photo. Mum's green eyes were laughing, and she looked like she didn't have a care in the world.

"Well, today's my forth reaping!" I said, stroking the photo's glass frame, "Wish me luck! Oh, and Dare too!" I smiled sadly, "He's so worried I'm going to be chosen, now I had to enter myself double. I didn't want to," I explained, shaking my head, "but I didn't have a choice! I can't let Dad starve! He's not in his right mind.

"I miss you." I said softly, tears blurring my vision, "I wish you were here to cheer me up. But, it's ok. I have Dare! He's wonderful; I couldn't ask for a better boyfriend…

"But he's not a mother."

I stared at the ground, tears making dark sports on the concrete. Sniffing, I shook my head, before turning back to Mum and smiling.

"Well, I'd better go. I have to make breakfast, and after that get ready for the reaping. I'll come in later to light your candles – so you won't be in the dark.

"Bye Mum." I kissed the photo frame, "Love you. You too, Jordan. Wish me luck, ok?"

And with that, I blew out the candles, plunging the room into darkness.

"Emni!" Dare yelled, waving his arm over his head. I waved back, my white dress billowing in the wind.

"Wow." He said, grabbing a lock of my brown hair, "You look stunning."

"Thanks." I said, slipping my hand into his. "You too."

Dare frowned, "Mum dressed me," he gave a pout, tugging on his collar impatiently, "I hate wearing formal clothes."

"Sssh." I said, placing my hand on his lips, "It's only for an hour. As soon as that's done, you can go home and take it off."

Dare smiled wickedly, "Will you take it off for me?" He asked innocently, eyes sparkling. Resisting the urge to laugh, I elbowed him in the chest, before pulling my hand from his.

"Oh, come on." He said, holding out his hand. I hesitated, looking at him with a grin, before I heard subdued talking. Turning my head, I looked to see the town square – packed full of people. My grin faded. As I turned back to Dare, I saw he was looking in the same direction I'd been looking in, face serious. I grabbed his hand, wiggling closer to him.

"Yeah," I muttered, eyes hard, "Let's get this over with."

_In a magic change of events, I have now decided to include chapter musics! Yay for having no life! If you believe this music is unacceptable, mention some "better" music in your review (you're going to review, aren't you?) and I'll check it out!1! _

_The next chapter will be in Dare's POV!_

Music of Chapter:

Vocal: Roslyn – Bon Iver & St. Vincent

Composition: The Burdened – Takeharu Ishimoto


	2. The Morning Before Dare POV

Hello again! Welcome to the second chapter of my fanfiction! This chapter was a bit of 'touch and go' – as Dare didn't really strike me as the sort of person to indulge in his past too much – but I made do with what I had. *sigh* Stupid OC's getting a mind of their own! Anyway, on to the disclaimer!

_**Disclaimer!**_

**SD: Today, I shall be using my pretty Adrian from the 'Vampire Academy' series.**

**A: Hello there!**

**SD: Now, Adrian, do you remember the deal?**

**A: If I do this for you, I get full access to Rose, and Dimetri get killed off, right?**

**SD: Whilst I can't promise that in your book world, in my imagination, yes.**

**A: StillDoll027 does not own Hunger Games, only the original characters she uses in this story.**

**SD: Again, sorry – I'll tell you as soon as I do own it, though.**

**A: Yeah, like that will happen.**

**SD: Oh, go back to your one sided love.**

**A: ….**

**SD: Crap.**

**A: *runs off***

**SD: *runs after* WAIT! I DIDN'T MEAN IT! AADDDRRRIIIIAAANN!**

My eyes opened ad the man moaned in anguish, infection running rampant. I sighed, rolling on my side. Any day but today. I lay, waiting for my mother to attend to him, and sure enough, seconds later, I heard her rushed footsteps and hushed voice asking "Do you want more painkillers?" in an attempt not to wake me. Not that it mattered, given the day.

The reaping.

I broke out into a cold sweat, and I had to wrap my blankets around myself to keep from shivering. It was barbaric, the Hunger Games. The slaughter of children for amusement. And today, they come to take two more children away from loved ones, friends and family. Mere children fighting to death. I hate the Hunger Games – but perhaps not as much as another.

Emni.

As her face – with sparkling eyes the colour of the sky, hair shoulder length and chestnut brown – entered my mind, fear took over me. I gripped the blankets to keep from crying out, and as I glanced down, I saw in the moonlights pale glow that my knuckles were white. It was my worst fear – that she would be chosen for the games. Possibly just a nightmare, but still…

Jordan.

Emni's brother had been selected for the Hunger Games in the past – which mean the odds, as our mentor, Yuffie Rorke, would say, were "Definitely not in her favour." It was bullshit – they just loved making poor families suffer. Not that it would matter in Emni's case – with her mother dead and father abusive. She practically lived at our house – not that I cared. I'd loved her from the first time I'd seen her. But that was eight years ago – I wondered if she still remembered…

I was originally from District 6 – though I don't remember much about it. My family were rebels – plotting the downfall of the Capital, in support of the "mockingjay;" Katniss Everdeen. But they weren't careful enough – and were caught. I was eight – deemed not to know anything by peacekeepers, and was allowed to live. I watched my family die – as did the rest of my district; non-attendance meant death, and as much as I would of preferred death, my mother's screaming for me made me go on. Eventually, one of my father's best friends – I have long forgotten his name – told me peacekeepers were looking for me – to turn me into the Capital. I already knew what would happen to me if I was caught: I would be turned into an Avox. There was really nothing else for me to do.

I ran.

Luckily, that same day, the Capital had bombed our District. I managed to escape through one of the broken fences and ran for it. I kept walking and walking until, eventually, I reached another set of fences. I thought I'd gone full circle and reached District 6 again – and so I crawled under the fence, desperate to return home and curl up under my bed. But – it was not District 6. I was lost – I didn't know where I was or where I was going. I passed out, not caring what happened to me anymore. It was then she found me – Gisela Farrell. The community's local healer, she took me in and nursed me back to health. I was delirious – comatose almost. It was nearly a year before I was back to my normal self again. By that time, however, the rebellion was over. The rebels had lost; the barriers around the districts rein tact. I debated whether to request a return to District 6 – it was a much better district then this one in more ways than one, but Gisela warned me that if I declared myself to the peacekeepers, I'd be killed, or at least turned into an Avox. She suggested, instead, that I stay in District 10 and live with her as her son. "I've lost my husband and children," she told me, a nervous smile on her lips, "and when I saw you, my instincts took over. But as time went by, I came to… well, love you, I guess. I want you to know that you'll always be welcome here, whatever you decide. I want you to be happy, Dare." She said, tears welling in her eyes. I said nothing, focusing on my own suffering. _This woman is insane, _I thought, already making plans to escape, _the pain of losing her family has caused her to think I love her._

"Well, Dare?" she'd asked, face hopeful, "What do you think?"

"No." I had said quietly, eyes on the ground, "I couldn't do that."

"What?" She asked, anguish in her voice, "Why not?"

"Because… because…"

"Dare?"

"_Because I already have a mother!_" I yelled, the words bouncing off the walls. Gisela went white, and she slumpt, before whispering "But… I never wanted to replace your mother, Dare. I just want you to be happy."

I bit my lip, and continued to stare at the ground.

"Please Dare," she begged, "At least think-"

"I'm going out." I said shortly, walking to the door without a backwards glance, "I'll be back whenever."

"Dare!" she cried, "Make sure you come back, ok? No matter how long-"

I slammed the door, cutting off whatever she was saying. I drew my arms around myself, and walked out into the cool breeze.

_District 10 is colder than District 6, _I'd thought at the time, walking against the crowd and rubbing my hands in an attempt to warm myself. It was then I realised I had no idea where I was going; I'd never been out by myself in District 10. Even if I was going to declare myself, I had no idea where I was going. I sighed, before sitting on a nearby curb. I was going to have to go back and apologize to Gisela – but how? I had no idea, and it was then as I sat there that I saw her for the first time.

She was running, tears streaming down her face, in the opposite direction in which I'd been walking. Waist length brown hair billowed out behind her – or, at least, 95% of it did. The other 5% was stuck together on the left side of her head. As she ran past me, I saw the bruises on her arms and legs, the barely healed cuts. She hadn't been to a healer – Gisela was the only one in the community, and I would have seen her. I felt something wet hit me, and as I looked at my leg, I saw a splatter of blood. Of course. That's what had stuck that hair together. Which meant it must be an impressive cut on her head. I stood up suddenly, looking in the direction she'd vanished. Something was seriously wrong – much worse than my problems. I hesitated for only a second, and then I took off after her. Eventually, I caught up to her. She was in a meadow not too far from Gisela's house – which was good, as I had a feeling we'd have to make a visit there before she went home. She sat, surrounded by flowers, clutching a bottle of sleep syrup. I narrowed my eyes, trying to make sense of the situation. And then, I got it.

She wanted to kill herself.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." I heard myself say, and I saw the girl jump, spilling half the bottle. She looked up at me in shock, and she gasped out "W-what did you say?"

Her voice was like music – I was entranced by it. But now was not the time – she was still staring at me, demanding an answer with her eyes, though her body shook like a leaf.

"I said don't do it. Killing yourself can't be the only solution." I said coolly, looking her up and down. She blushed.

"You don't know me," the girl said, lowering my eyes, "You don't know my hardships."

Hardships?

"You think you have hardships?" I asked, my tone hollow. I sat down next to her, a little upset when she shuffled away. "My family was killed in front of me. They were rebels, plotting the downfall of the Capital. This was before the rebellion – days before. I was spared because I was too young. I was only seven. I didn't know anything. But the rest of my family was executed in front of our whole district – District Six. And when that happened, I found myself completely alone in the world. No family would take in another mouth to feed. I found myself rummaging through bins in order to survive."

There was silence as the girl took this in. I stared off into the distance, knowing she would talk when she wanted to.

"That's… horrible." She eventually whispered, tone raw with pain. For me? I shrugged.

"The pasts the past. Nothing you do will change it." A quote from my father, I neglected to mention. I looked sideways at the girl, whose eyes were still on the ground. "Now, tell me your story." I said softly, not wanting to upset her.

The girl looked at me in fear. "My story?" She asked, sounding like she'd rather do anything but.

I nodded. "Yes – your story. I told you mine – it's only fair." I shrugged. I knew this was a low blow, but I didn't care. The girl bit her lip. I was about to tell her it didn't really matter when she finally blurted out "My brother was in the Games."

This threw me. I hadn't expected this. Looking to the ground, I said "Oh" and thought back. Since the rebellion, there'd only been one Hunger Games, and whilst I had payed particular attention to the tributes of District 6, I had also focused on the ones from District 10. "He was Jordan, then?" I asked, hoping I'd gotten his name right. The girl nodded, more tears forming in her eyes. "You saw him then?" She asked bitterly, clawing at the ground.

"I did." I looked at her for a moment, before adding softly, "He died a hero's death."

This utterly confused her, "Huh?" she said, looking directly at me for the first time. I noticed her eyes were blue – sky blue. I struggled to back up what I'd said, and eventually explained the scene that had stuck in my mind when I remembered him.

"I mean, he didn't beg to live or cry or anything. He just kept talking about how much he loved you and your family. That's heroic in my opinion." I said, replaying the scene in my head. The girl's name popped into my mind as he said how much he loved her: _Emni_.

"He was heroic. He was more than that." Emni gave a small smile, and pulled her knees to her chest. "He was the family's golden child – he could do no wrong, loved by all."

"Including you?"

"Especially me. I adored him. Worshiped him. You know?" she asked, looking desperately at me. I nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. I had done exactly the same thing with my father. It struck me odd that it was these people that ended up dead.

"I understand. So how did they take it? You family I mean." I said cautiously, trying not to convey my real feelings. Luckily, Emni didn't pick up on it.

"That's just it – they didn't. Haven't. My mother died later that day – in childbirth. That child died three days later." Sorrow tainted Emni's voice, and I suppressed an urge to hug her close to me.

"So it's just you and your father?" I said instead, trying to act as if I was only mildly interested and not creepy interested.

"Yes. But… he's not coping well – if you can call it coping. He's taken to drinking, and…"

"Has he hurt you?" I asked flatly, no pre tense this time. Emni jumped

"What? Why do you ask?" She asked, looking at me in confusion. My eyes flickered to the side of her head, where more blood was streaming down the side of her head. I looked back to her, wondering how she hadn't noticed. She slowly raised a hand to touch the spot, and her eyes widened when she brought it away red.

"Oh god." She whimpered, beginning to hyperventilate. I immediately knew she couldn't stomach blood – probably due to the Hunger Games – and knew I had to do something about it. I took advantage of her spaced out state, grabbing her by the shoulders and saying in an insistent tone "Did he hurt you?"

Her head reeled back, and her eyes refocused. She was shaking again, and it showed in her answer "He-he threw a bottle at me. That's why I left. I was tired of pretending to care."

She was so like me, it was scary. "Here, let me take a look." I commanded, only slightly surprised when she conceded. I took her head between my hands – ignoring the small thrill I felt when I did so – and examined the cut. It ran from her forehead to just above her ear – and from the amount of blood and the swelling, I knew it was deep. "Yep, that's a deep cut." I said, knowing instantly what I was going to do. "Come on. I'll take you to my mother."

"Huh?" Emni got to her feet just after me, "Didn't you say-"

_Why now of all times?_ "I did. She's my adoptive mother." _If she still wants to be, that is. _

"But-"

"Look, we can discuss this another time. You're losing blood. Come on." And, fighting the fear I felt by doing it, I grabbed her hand and started towing her away from the meadow, and away from the abandoned bottles of sleep syrup. We didn't speak – I was focused on finding Gisela's house, Emni was probably focused on just staying awake. Finally, I saw Gisela herself standing outside her house, calling me in worry. When she caught sight of me, she gave a sigh of relief "Dare? Dare! Where were-" she broke off, catching a glimpse of Emni behind me, "oh god. Is that..? Oh god. Dare, you bring her right inside! I'll go prep…" and with that, she dashed inside, leaving Emni and I outside on the street.

"Your name's Dare?" Emni asked meekly, looking at me in embarrassment.

"Yep." I grinned at her, trying to tell her it was ok – that she didn't have to be embarrassed. "And your Emni, right?"

She stopped suddenly, looking at me in horror. "No." She shook her head, "I'm Emily. Only my friends and brother call me Emni."

_Your brother's dead, _I thought sombrely, before asking in a confused tone "I thought we were friends?"

This threw her, and she thought it over, before saying shyly, "Well, I guess… that's fine then."

Euphoria shot through me, but I pushed it back down. "Ok. Let's do this properly, then." I said politely, stepping forward, extending my hand in the process, "I'm Dare. And you are?"

Emni smiled at my attempt at lightness, "Emni. Nice to meet you."

I sighed, the light of dawn breaking through my thoughts. Emni. What would I do without her? The stupid fool had put herself down double – just to keep that father of hers fed. I objected to the very thought, and she had just said "I can't let him starve. He's my father, after all."

I snorted. A father wouldn't hit his daughter. Wouldn't force her to do all the farm work while he drank away their savings. No, Weest Halin didn't count as a human, let alone a father. I fumed quietly, totally missing the quiet creak of my door as it was pushed open.

"Dare?" my mother asked, poking her head in, "Are you awake?"

"Yeah – have been for quite a while now. Couldn't sleep – got too much on my mind."

"Sssh. It's ok," she cooed, walking over to my bed and kneeling down next to me, "the chances of either you or Emni are extremely small. You know that right?"

"Yeah – I know. But still…"

"I know – worst case scenario."

"You got that right." I gave a weak laugh, before sighing again.

"Well, you're meeting Emni in little over an hour. What are you planning to wear?"

I blinked, before looking in a corner of my room, where all my clothes were piled. My mother's eyes widened.

"Oh no. You're not wearing something creased to a reaping – I don't care what you're motives behind it are. Get out of bed so I can work on you!"

I groaned, rolling over to hide the small smile that had appeared on my lips. My mother was prodding me, near shrieking at me to move. Finally, she pulled the blankets off, and I forced myself up.

"Now, don't worry," my mother said with a smirk, producing a comb from nowhere, "This will only take a sec."

"Emni!" I yelled, awkwardly waving my arm over my head. It was difficult, given that the suit I was wearing constricted movement. Emni waved back, her white dress billowing in the wind.

"Wow." I said, grabbing one of her locks of brown hair, "You look stunning."

"Thanks." She said, slipping her hand into mine. "You too."

I frowned, "Mum dressed me," I said, pouting and tugging on my collar impatiently, "I hate wearing formal clothes."

"Sssh." Emni said with a small smile on her lips, placing her hand on mine, "It's only for an hour. As soon as that's done, you can go home and take it off."

I smiled wickedly, "Will you take it off for me?" I asked innocently, eyes sparkling. Emni elbowed me in the chest, looking like she was resisting the urge to laugh, before she pulled her hand from mine.

"Oh, come on." I said, holding out my hand. She hesitated, looking at me with a grin, before she froze, and turned her head suddenly. Confused, I followed suit, only to freeze as well. Up ahead was the town square – packed full of people. My grin faded. Suddenly, I felt Emni grab my hand and wiggle into my chest

"Yeah," She muttered, tone serious, "Let's get this over with."

So hopefully that gave you an insight to Dare's character. It's funny that he was in love with her at the age of 9, but *shrug* it really fit with his character. Emni was more immature (I think) – she had to grow into it. But we digress. Read and review! If I don't know what I'm doing wrong, I can't fix it, can I?

Music of Chapter:

Vocal: Where's My Angel – Metro Station

Composition: Sky-Blue Eyes – Takeharu Ishimoto


	3. The Reaping Emni POV

Hi! The third chapter in as many weeks (I think!) This fan fiction is moving so quickly! I hope whoever's reading this (if anyone is, that is!) isn't annoyed when I get a job or have to go back to school! Yeah, I'm on holidays at the moment. But, never fear! I shall continue writing as fast as I can whilst I am not working/studying! Now, disclaimer!

_**Disclaimer!**_

**SD: Hmm. Due to a high budget, I can afford to hire Goku from Dragonball /Dragonball Z to do this chapter's disclaimer!**

**G: Hey there guys!**

**SD: Goku, if you don't mind.**

**G: ****StillDoll027 does not own Hunger Games, only the original characters she uses in this story.**

**SD: Yep! Still no listings on eBay to buy the franchise. Not that I blame her.**

**G: Her?**

**SD: Yeah, the author of the Hunger Games.**

**G: Just say her name!**

**SD: *furious frown* Make me!**

**G: 'Kame…'**

**SD: You can't threaten me with that!**

**G: 'Hame…'**

**SD: … You're not serious… You're bluffing!**

**G: 'H-'**

**SD: Ok! Ok, it's ****Suzanne Collins!**

**G: Now, was that so hard?**

**SD: Curse this overworked imagination of mine.**

We walked silently into the square, people greeting us with solemn expressions on their faces. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Dare's mother - Gisela Farrell – scanning the crowd with fear in her mouth. I raised my arm, waving in her direction until she spotted us and waved back, eyes brimming with tears. I knew she knew one of us would be chosen – I just hoped, for both of us, that it would be me. Dare gave me a side glance, and – pulling me to his chest – muttered in my ear "What's up?" I pulled out of his hold and, with a quick smile, said "Nothing. I'm just nervous, you know?"

Dare gave me a disbelieving look, before leaning in and whispering in my ear "You should know by now you can't lie to me. Now really – what's wrong?''

My resolve wavered, and I considered telling him what I thought – what I knew: I was going to be chosen. But as I opened my mouth, a gong rang and a painfully cheerful voice – belonging to one Yuffie Rorke – sang "Attention! The reaping will now begin! Will all –ahem- tributes please make their way to their designated areas in preparation of this fabulous event?"

I looked at this woman in disgust. Who was she kidding? No-one here wanted to be here – we all loathed these Games – and the fact that this woman with her ridiculous purple hair was here _pretending _they were some wonderful occurrence made me nauseous. I saw Dare clench his teeth together to hold in what I was sure was a great amount of colourful language aimed at the Capital and President Snow in general.

"Gotta go!" I said hurriedly, leaning up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He looked at me in confusion.

"Go?" He said, trying to grab a hold of my arm – which I managed to shake off, "Go where?"

"Over to my sector – eh, area. You heard Rorke." I shook my head with a small smile on my lips, "The reaping will begin soon."

"Hurry back to me," Dare said softly, leaning in and kissing me on the forehead.

_If I can, _I thought to myself, while I said cheerfully "Always" before turning and hurrying away, trying to conceal the fear on my face. What I did was right: Dare would have freaked out if I'd told him. It would of made him more afraid than he already was – an easily avoided state. I restrained myself from looking back at him, instead hurrying over to a group of girls I knew – in particular one Ilka Honora. I called her name, and she turned in response, waving at me. I knew this would please Dare – he'd always wanted me to get along with our – _his _– friends. Honestly, Ilka was the only one I got along with – the others merely tolerated my presence, hoping – I was sure – that Dare would eventually tire of me and cast me aside, leaving him free to pursue. This was my waking nightmare – apart from being selected for the Hunger Games; but then again, I had begun to accept not as a nightmare, but as reality.

"Emni!" Ilka said softly, giving me a small smile. The others ignored my interruption – which was fine with me. "How are you feeling?"

"Nervous. I can't wait until this is over. And you?"

"The same. Still – you'll be happy." Ilka looked over my shoulder, "It's his last reaping. If he can make it through this, he'll be free. And you've only one more year yourself."

"I know. I am happy." I could tell Ilka didn't believe me, but she didn't push it – because at that moment, another gong sounded and the crowd grew silent. I scanned the crowd, but I couldn't spot Dare anywhere; however I did find my father propped up against an archway, a bottle clutched in his hands. I looked down, sighing. Of course he would turn up drunk. That would just make everything better the media. _Not._

The mayor stepped forward, reading the same story I'd heard over and over – both when I was in the reaping and when Jordan and Dare were. The story of the Panem – the country that rose from the ashes of a place previously called "North America." He lists long forgotten disasters that occurred – droughts, fires, wars over the land not swallowed by the sea, and how Panem still managed to become the shining example of a country it is today. And then a brief dusting over of "The Dark Days." The rebellions – both failed. One many years before me, one during my lifetime. The Hunger Games is out punishment for the crimes of those who chose to rebel – it is their fault we suffer, and will continue to suffer for eternity; or at least until new technology comes to light…

I shook my head, dispelling the thoughts as I thought them. What was I – a rebel? Those thoughts were more than enough to have me whipped publicly – if not killed. It was considered mutiny – and I'd had enough death to last my life.

"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," the mayor tells us, disgust in his voice barely concealed by the sarcastic tone he used. I knew for certain his daughter – Lani Moloney – was in this reaping. I wish I could tell him that she was safe – that she wouldn't be chosen. That was to be my honour – mine alone.

Mayor Moloney sat down, despair lighting his face as he scanned the crowd for his daughter. I knew what he was thinking – if she'd run for it, his family would suffer. Lani had several younger siblings – and if she had run for it, they were a sure in, in the Games. Another had tried to flee the reaping in the past – and that boy's family suffered until the boy came back – and long after that. The boy was killed, his family tortured and turned into Avox's – a life _worse _than death. I shuddered at the thought, before the sickly sweet voice of Yuffie Rorke made me raise my eyes.

"Welcome to the 82nd Hunger Games; may the odds-"

"Be _ever _in your favour." Ilka muttered in time next to me. A nearby girl laughed quietly, but I remain silent. Ilka didn't understand the seriousness of this situation. Still, she could afford to joke. She was safe – for another year at least.

"There's no point wasting time: let's get straight to the reaping!" She paused – perhaps for dramatic effect, however the effect was wasted on us; the crowd went even more silent than I'd thought was possible. I stood there, fists clenched, waiting for my destiny.

"Lady's first!" Yuffie seemed content to lag this thing on for as long as she could. I wanted to scream at her to get on with it, but instead I bit my tongue and waited. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ilka give me a strange look.

"Well, here I go!" Yuffie said, plunging her hand into the dish stuffed _full _of slips. Seeing the amount of slips in there prompted the thought that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't be chosen. Maybe Ilka would be. Or Lani. But not me. It didn't have to be me.

"Emily Halin!" Yuffie called, sounding excited.

The world froze.

I could see heads turning my way, mouths moving. But it was as if someone had hit the mute button. I couldn't hear anything, couldn't think. So even against the odds, I'd been chosen. Typical. It had to be the way, didn't it?

"Emily Halin?" Yuffie Rorke called again – the only sound in this silent world - before scanning the crowd. Eventually she caught sight of the amount of heads turned in my direction, and my (surely) ashen face. A beaming smile appeared on her face, and she said "Well, up you come, then!"

Suddenly, I was pushed from behind, and I turned to see Ilka, face expressionless. "Get up there," she said quietly, without emotion, "You'll have to go up sooner or later."

I nodded, still not fully comprehending the full situation. I felt my legs move against my will, moving towards the stage. I scanned the crowd, only stopping when my eyes met Dare's. He hadn't been standing that far away from where Ilka and the others were, and it was if all the emotions I was feeling were projected on his face. His eyes blazed, whilst also swimming with unshed tears. I wanted to run to him, but instead I stopped in front of Rorke, who looked me up and down before saying "Well, well – what a pretty girl."

I bit my lip, staring her down.

"Say… I seem to remember another Halin in the Hunger Games… Jordan? Any relation?" She seemed unaware of what I was feeling, but if she wanted to act like nothing was wrong, that was fine. I was good at that.

"My brother." I said curtly, offering the least amount of information possible. She nodded.

"So, you'll feel compelled towards revenge against the district whose tribute killed him?" She asked, tone cruel. I flinched, before I hardened and said harshly "I honestly hadn't considered it, but now that you mention it, that sounds perfect."

Yuffie threw back her head and laughed. "I shouldn't have expected any less than that sort of attitude from Jordan's sister. Any other words for your district?"

"No, but I have some for you: get on with this. Put these people out of their misery. Besides, the faster you get this over with, the sooner I get to kill those… _creatures _whose mentor killed my brother." Yuffie's eyes hardened, before she flashed another smile at me and said "But of course, dear Emily. Let's begin the end of your long journey. Now! The boy's reaping!"

I cast my eyes back to Dare's face, which showed no emotion. I looked at him desperately, begging with my eyes. I knew what he was planning – and if he followed through with his plan, we would both be slaughtered. He met my gaze coolly, not offering any information that helped me. I wanted to scream at him, but suddenly his gaze flickered to the dish of boy's ballets, and I found my head turning – silently saying the words over and over in my head: _Not Dare… not Dare… not Dare…_

"Max Blake!" Yuffie called out, and I felt myself instantly relax. It wasn't Dare. Dare was safe. Strangely this comforted me the most: the knowledge that the one I loved was safe. My eyes flickered to the face of the doomed boy, and I felt my mouth fall open in pity. It was the face of a twelve old boy – one from a poor family, but still… the odds were 1:400 that he would be chosen. I felt sorry for him.

"Yes, congratulations!" Yuffie called to the boy, who'd burst into tears, "No need for the tears – let's hurry and come up onto the stage so we can ask for volunteers. You may not get the chance to go into the arena this year!" She said it so optimistically that I almost believed that, if by some miracle he was spared, he wouldn't be selected next year just for the _fun _of it.

Max made his way up to the stage slowly – his sister (possibly his twin) had broken down and being supported by another twelve year old standing next to her. Along the sides of the reaping areas, a woman – possibly the boy's mother – was in the same state as the girl. I felt sorry for their family.

"Thank you for joining us, Max. Is that short for, say, Maximilian?" Yuffie asked, trying to make small talk as she had with me. It was obvious that this boy was in no state to be making small talk, and after a few other attempts, Yuffie gave up, before turning to the crowd and asking in an mysterious tone, "Now – is there any among you who wish to volunteer yourselves and take the place of these individuals – with their permission, of course. If so, speak up now, or miss out on this opportunity – for some of you, the _last _opportunity.

"Any female's wishing to take Emily Halin's place?" Yuffie asked the female side, receiving only silence in her wake. Even if someone did volunteer, I would deny the person the right to be in the Games: if I was to die, there was no point prolonging it.

"No?" Yuffie said after 10 seconds of silence, and I found myself sighing in relief. I would not have to explain my crazy claim – yet, "Any boys then?"

I jumped, having completely forgotten about this part. I scanned the crowd, looking for Dare again, but when my eyes fell on the place where he'd been before, I found only an empty space. I began to hyperventilate as Yuffie said "Any male's wishing to take Max Blake's place?" I kept scanning the crowd, only being slightly surprised when I heard Yuffie say "Oh? And who might you be?"

I turned my head to the figure she was addressing, hearing the low hiss of the crowd as they recognized his face. I shook my head, tears forming in my eyes. I could almost hear Gisela weeping as the figure said in a loud voice:

"I'm Dare Farrell, and I volunteer for the place of male tribute for District 10 in the place of Max Blake."

_Oh, come on! Surely that much was obvious as soon as Yuffie didn't call out Dare's name. Max will be, strangely, a support character – odd, as I had fully planned to make Yuffie call out Dare's name, and only changed my mind when I found that boring. Besides, this makes Dare seem much more noble. Ahh… read and review! And my thanks to the reviewer called "Beezy", who offered much advice about my other two chapters, fan fictions, and (sadly) corrected me on my "Damien Adrian" mix-up (you're right! I did mix up the Vampire Academy and House of Night series!)_

Music of Chapter:

Vocal: Last Day On Earth – Kate Miller-Heidke

Composition: Dearly Beloved – Yoko Shimomura


	4. The Reaping Dare POV

Hi! The third chapter in as many weeks (I think!) This fan fiction is moving so quickly! I hope whoever's reading this (if anyone is, that is!) isn't annoyed when I get a job or have to go back to school! Yeah, I'm on holidays at the moment. But, never fear! I shall continue writing as fast as I can whilst I am not working/studying! Now, disclaimer!

_**Disclaimer!**_

**SD: Hmm. Due to a high budget, I can afford to hire Goku from Dragonball /Dragonball Z to do this chapter's disclaimer!**

**G: Hey there guys!**

**SD: Goku, if you don't mind.**

**G: ****StillDoll027 does not own Hunger Games, only the original characters she uses in this story.**

**SD: Yep! Still no listings on eBay to buy the franchise. Not that I blame her.**

**G: Her?**

**SD: Yeah, the author of the Hunger Games.**

**G: Just say her name!**

**SD: *furious frown* Make me!**

**G: 'Kame…'**

**SD: You can't threaten me with that!**

**G: 'Hame…'**

**SD: … You're not serious… You're bluffing!**

**G: 'H-'**

**SD: Ok! Ok, it's ****Suzanne Collins!**

**G: Now, was that so hard?**

**SD: Curse this overworked imagination of mine.**

We walked silently into the square, people greeting us with solemn expressions on their faces. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Dare's mother - Gisela Farrell – scanning the crowd with fear in her mouth. I raised my arm, waving in her direction until she spotted us and waved back, eyes brimming with tears. I knew she knew one of us would be chosen – I just hoped, for both of us, that it would be me. Dare gave me a side glance, and – pulling me to his chest – muttered in my ear "What's up?" I pulled out of his hold and, with a quick smile, said "Nothing. I'm just nervous, you know?"

Dare gave me a disbelieving look, before leaning in and whispering in my ear "You should know by now you can't lie to me. Now really – what's wrong?''

My resolve wavered, and I considered telling him what I thought – what I knew: I was going to be chosen. But as I opened my mouth, a gong rang and a painfully cheerful voice – belonging to one Yuffie Rorke – sang "Attention! The reaping will now begin! Will all –ahem- tributes please make their way to their designated areas in preparation of this fabulous event?"

I looked at this woman in disgust. Who was she kidding? No-one here wanted to be here – we all loathed these Games – and the fact that this woman with her ridiculous purple hair was here _pretending _they were some wonderful occurrence made me nauseous. I saw Dare clench his teeth together to hold in what I was sure was a great amount of colourful language aimed at the Capital and President Snow in general.

"Gotta go!" I said hurriedly, leaning up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He looked at me in confusion.

"Go?" He said, trying to grab a hold of my arm – which I managed to shake off, "Go where?"

"Over to my sector – eh, area. You heard Rorke." I shook my head with a small smile on my lips, "The reaping will begin soon."

"Hurry back to me," Dare said softly, leaning in and kissing me on the forehead.

_If I can, _I thought to myself, while I said cheerfully "Always" before turning and hurrying away, trying to conceal the fear on my face. What I did was right: Dare would have freaked out if I'd told him. It would of made him more afraid than he already was – an easily avoided state. I restrained myself from looking back at him, instead hurrying over to a group of girls I knew – in particular one Ilka Honora. I called her name, and she turned in response, waving at me. I knew this would please Dare – he'd always wanted me to get along with our – _his _– friends. Honestly, Ilka was the only one I got along with – the others merely tolerated my presence, hoping – I was sure – that Dare would eventually tire of me and cast me aside, leaving him free to pursue. This was my waking nightmare – apart from being selected for the Hunger Games; but then again, I had begun to accept not as a nightmare, but as reality.

"Emni!" Ilka said softly, giving me a small smile. The others ignored my interruption – which was fine with me. "How are you feeling?"

"Nervous. I can't wait until this is over. And you?"

"The same. Still – you'll be happy." Ilka looked over my shoulder, "It's his last reaping. If he can make it through this, he'll be free. And you've only one more year yourself."

"I know. I am happy." I could tell Ilka didn't believe me, but she didn't push it – because at that moment, another gong sounded and the crowd grew silent. I scanned the crowd, but I couldn't spot Dare anywhere; however I did find my father propped up against an archway, a bottle clutched in his hands. I looked down, sighing. Of course he would turn up drunk. That would just make everything better the media. _Not._

The mayor stepped forward, reading the same story I'd heard over and over – both when I was in the reaping and when Jordan and Dare were. The story of the Panem – the country that rose from the ashes of a place previously called "North America." He lists long forgotten disasters that occurred – droughts, fires, wars over the land not swallowed by the sea, and how Panem still managed to become the shining example of a country it is today. And then a brief dusting over of "The Dark Days." The rebellions – both failed. One many years before me, one during my lifetime. The Hunger Games is out punishment for the crimes of those who chose to rebel – it is their fault we suffer, and will continue to suffer for eternity; or at least until new technology comes to light…

I shook my head, dispelling the thoughts as I thought them. What was I – a rebel? Those thoughts were more than enough to have me whipped publicly – if not killed. It was considered mutiny – and I'd had enough death to last my life.

"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," the mayor tells us, disgust in his voice barely concealed by the sarcastic tone he used. I knew for certain his daughter – Lani Moloney – was in this reaping. I wish I could tell him that she was safe – that she wouldn't be chosen. That was to be my honour – mine alone.

Mayor Moloney sat down, despair lighting his face as he scanned the crowd for his daughter. I knew what he was thinking – if she'd run for it, his family would suffer. Lani had several younger siblings – and if she had run for it, they were a sure in, in the Games. Another had tried to flee the reaping in the past – and that boy's family suffered until the boy came back – and long after that. The boy was killed, his family tortured and turned into Avox's – a life _worse _than death. I shuddered at the thought, before the sickly sweet voice of Yuffie Rorke made me raise my eyes.

"Welcome to the 82nd Hunger Games; may the odds-"

"Be _ever _in your favour." Ilka muttered in time next to me. A nearby girl laughed quietly, but I remain silent. Ilka didn't understand the seriousness of this situation. Still, she could afford to joke. She was safe – for another year at least.

"There's no point wasting time: let's get straight to the reaping!" She paused – perhaps for dramatic effect, however the effect was wasted on us; the crowd went even more silent than I'd thought was possible. I stood there, fists clenched, waiting for my destiny.

"Lady's first!" Yuffie seemed content to lag this thing on for as long as she could. I wanted to scream at her to get on with it, but instead I bit my tongue and waited. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ilka give me a strange look.

"Well, here I go!" Yuffie said, plunging her hand into the dish stuffed _full _of slips. Seeing the amount of slips in there prompted the thought that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't be chosen. Maybe Ilka would be. Or Lani. But not me. It didn't have to be me.

"Emily Halin!" Yuffie called, sounding excited.

The world froze.

I could see heads turning my way, mouths moving. But it was as if someone had hit the mute button. I couldn't hear anything, couldn't think. So even against the odds, I'd been chosen. Typical. It had to be the way, didn't it?

"Emily Halin?" Yuffie Rorke called again – the only sound in this silent world - before scanning the crowd. Eventually she caught sight of the amount of heads turned in my direction, and my (surely) ashen face. A beaming smile appeared on her face, and she said "Well, up you come, then!"

Suddenly, I was pushed from behind, and I turned to see Ilka, face expressionless. "Get up there," she said quietly, without emotion, "You'll have to go up sooner or later."

I nodded, still not fully comprehending the full situation. I felt my legs move against my will, moving towards the stage. I scanned the crowd, only stopping when my eyes met Dare's. He hadn't been standing that far away from where Ilka and the others were, and it was if all the emotions I was feeling were projected on his face. His eyes blazed, whilst also swimming with unshed tears. I wanted to run to him, but instead I stopped in front of Rorke, who looked me up and down before saying "Well, well – what a pretty girl."

I bit my lip, staring her down.

"Say… I seem to remember another Halin in the Hunger Games… Jordan? Any relation?" She seemed unaware of what I was feeling, but if she wanted to act like nothing was wrong, that was fine. I was good at that.

"My brother." I said curtly, offering the least amount of information possible. She nodded.

"So, you'll feel compelled towards revenge against the district whose tribute killed him?" She asked, tone cruel. I flinched, before I hardened and said harshly "I honestly hadn't considered it, but now that you mention it, that sounds perfect."

Yuffie threw back her head and laughed. "I shouldn't have expected any less than that sort of attitude from Jordan's sister. Any other words for your district?"

"No, but I have some for you: get on with this. Put these people out of their misery. Besides, the faster you get this over with, the sooner I get to kill those… _creatures _whose mentor killed my brother." Yuffie's eyes hardened, before she flashed another smile at me and said "But of course, dear Emily. Let's begin the end of your long journey. Now! The boy's reaping!"

I cast my eyes back to Dare's face, which showed no emotion. I looked at him desperately, begging with my eyes. I knew what he was planning – and if he followed through with his plan, we would both be slaughtered. He met my gaze coolly, not offering any information that helped me. I wanted to scream at him, but suddenly his gaze flickered to the dish of boy's ballets, and I found my head turning – silently saying the words over and over in my head: _Not Dare… not Dare… not Dare…_

"Max Blake!" Yuffie called out, and I felt myself instantly relax. It wasn't Dare. Dare was safe. Strangely this comforted me the most: the knowledge that the one I loved was safe. My eyes flickered to the face of the doomed boy, and I felt my mouth fall open in pity. It was the face of a twelve old boy – one from a poor family, but still… the odds were 1:400 that he would be chosen. I felt sorry for him.

"Yes, congratulations!" Yuffie called to the boy, who'd burst into tears, "No need for the tears – let's hurry and come up onto the stage so we can ask for volunteers. You may not get the chance to go into the arena this year!" She said it so optimistically that I almost believed that, if by some miracle he was spared, he wouldn't be selected next year just for the _fun _of it.

Max made his way up to the stage slowly – his sister (possibly his twin) had broken down and being supported by another twelve year old standing next to her. Along the sides of the reaping areas, a woman – possibly the boy's mother – was in the same state as the girl. I felt sorry for their family.

"Thank you for joining us, Max. Is that short for, say, Maximilian?" Yuffie asked, trying to make small talk as she had with me. It was obvious that this boy was in no state to be making small talk, and after a few other attempts, Yuffie gave up, before turning to the crowd and asking in an mysterious tone, "Now – is there any among you who wish to volunteer yourselves and take the place of these individuals – with their permission, of course. If so, speak up now, or miss out on this opportunity – for some of you, the _last _opportunity.

"Any female's wishing to take Emily Halin's place?" Yuffie asked the female side, receiving only silence in her wake. Even if someone did volunteer, I would deny the person the right to be in the Games: if I was to die, there was no point prolonging it.

"No?" Yuffie said after 10 seconds of silence, and I found myself sighing in relief. I would not have to explain my crazy claim – yet, "Any boys then?"

I jumped, having completely forgotten about this part. I scanned the crowd, looking for Dare again, but when my eyes fell on the place where he'd been before, I found only an empty space. I began to hyperventilate as Yuffie said "Any male's wishing to take Max Blake's place?" I kept scanning the crowd, only being slightly surprised when I heard Yuffie say "Oh? And who might you be?"

I turned my head to the figure she was addressing, hearing the low hiss of the crowd as they recognized his face. I shook my head, tears forming in my eyes. I could almost hear Gisela weeping as the figure said in a loud voice:

"I'm Dare Farrell, and I volunteer for the place of male tribute for District 10 in the place of Max Blake."

_Oh, come on! Surely that much was obvious as soon as Yuffie didn't call out Dare's name. Max will be, strangely, a support character – odd, as I had fully planned to make Yuffie call out Dare's name, and only changed my mind when I found that boring. Besides, this makes Dare seem much more noble. Ahh… read and review! And my thanks to the reviewer called "Beezy", who offered much advice about my other two chapters, fan fictions, and (sadly) corrected me on my "Damien Adrian" mix-up (you're right! I did mix up the Vampire Academy and House of Night series!)_

Music of Chapter:

Vocal: Last Day On Earth – Kate Miller-Heidke

Composition: Dearly Beloved – Yoko Shimomura


End file.
